Remembrance Of Things Past......In Ilford

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I'm not going to write about the attack in Westminster. Not because I don't feel any sympathy for the family and friends of those who lost their lives or to those who died (bar one) but simply because I have nothing original to say and won't bore you rehashing what many other people have said already and will say in the future.

What I do want to chat about is a shooting that took place a few days ago. I won't go into the details about it because that would make me seem to be a vulture on grief. All I'll say about that is that the victim was (according to the London Evening Standard's website) ambushed by a gang.

The thing about this particular death, and it was what made me jolt up and take notice, was that it was a shooting in Ilford (which I'll say is in Essex although it could also be categorised as East London). My first instinctive reaction was "a shooting in Ilford?"

I am not someone who generally likes to reminisce. For the most part reminiscing causes a bittersweet quality at best and regret at worst. The last time I actively sort out the past was in September last year when I made the trip to London for the twenty fifth anniversary of my father's death and also said a belated goodbye to Upton Park.

Sometimes though the past catches up on you unawares and this was the case here. Up until I moved to South Wales in 1997 I regularly went to the town. But I've not been for about sixteen years.

When I was a child in the Seventies and living in Forest Gate East London. My mother and I used to take the bus (the numbers 25 or 86) for trips some Saturdays to Ilford. And much as I liked Forest Gate and would always defend it there was an excitement about these trips because Ilford was different.

For a boy between six and nine the town had a sort of glamour to it. The shops had a sort of style. There was Maison Riche. Your actual French no less. Of course in my more cynical teenage years I realised that it was really "Rich House".

It also had a TV where I could spend the time whilst my mother was clothes shopping appearing on TV for the first time. Of course that was on the security monitors they'd put up there but who cares? I was on TV.

It had a department store on a slope (Bodgers) and a massive BHS. If that building could tell the future it would have been in perpetual despair.

Most of all though it had W H Smith. More than any other shop the Ilford branch of W H Smith fuelled my love of reading. Part of the reason why I dislike the shop now is that I remember what it was like then.

And even as a more knowing teenager. When reality began to enter my vision. I still liked Ilford. Essex County Cricket club would play at least one Sunday league game in the local Valintines Park and I'd go to see them play.

Ilford on reflection began to change when further east, and definitely in Essex there was the creation of the Lakeside shopping centre. And the town was replaced as the place you would go to for "event shopping". They did build a shopping centre in Ilford, presumably to compete, but it wasn't the same.

Since moving to South Wales in 1997 I've only ever been back there twice. The last being about sixteen years ago so this week's event came as a complete shock to me. Shooting, a gang...has it changed that much?

The past they say is a different country and speaking from a different country it appears very much so.

Until the next time

Howard Jacobson's New Fans, Books Borrowed Read But Not Bought Plus Swansea,Mumbles and BHS

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before the family day trip later on I had to make a quick visit to Porthcawl library as they were due and quickly to Poundland to get razors,shower gel and some toothpaste....oh and a book.

You may remember when I'd last visited there I was surprised that Poundland were selling some quality books amongst the expected dross. Although there was a tome by Howard Jacobson for more sentimental reasons I'd picked The American by Martin Booth (A decision incidentally that wasn't wrong in itself. Spoiler alert: So far it's very good). This time though I was going to get the Jacobson.

Or I would have.....if there were any there.

To my knowledge Poundland leave books on the shelves forever. My favourite of the "dross" books was one that celebrated Irish Olympic hopefuls. All very well in itself if it wasn't for the fact that we were in Wales. So that the Jacobson completely sold out is encouraging. I suspect most of the people who bought the book wouldn't have thought to have picked it up anywhere else and some of those might be further encouraged to read more of his work afterwards,

Poundland:Encouraging reading and literature, Who would have thought it but let's celebrate it anyway.

Afterwards I went to the library. Was tempted to get the autobiography of the ex West Ham and new England manager Sam Allardyce but ultimately went for this as my football book choice.

The Secret Footballer - Tales From The Secret Footballer

This is the sequel to the original "Secret Footballer" book which apparently lifts the lid on the football world. It has the reputation. Let's see whether deserved.

The intention was to just get that book. But as you know me by now and needless to say I was tempted to borrow another which was this.

Clare Balding - My Family and Other Rambles

I took this book because I'm toying with the idea of taking up rambling. Not the sort that wanders lonely as a cloud in green places but that explores towns and villages. Rather like the day I spent going round the Valleys in May.

I have the prequel to this. My Animals And Other Family amongst the great unread.

Must admit as well to have an admiration for the author. Capable of being a broadcasting "safe pair of hands" and yet can fight for her beliefs as well. A lioness in jolly hockey sticks clothing. She also has the ability, rather like the late Alan Coren and the comedienne Linda Smith of being the sort of person you consider a friend even though you've never met them.

When I'd got home the wife decided that we should go to Swansea for the day. Given the washout of her birthday the day before I wasn't going to argue. Still though we were out of the house the car hadn't left the drive for a further ten minutes whilst she and daughter chatted to the neighbour opposite. In that time I finished a book.

It was Not A Hazardous Sport by Nigel Barley. As I was reading this it reminded me of the sort of series started by James Herriot. Take an occupation and write about your experiences in a manner which suggested that life was basically comic with occasional sad episodes. Of course we all know that life is a constant battle between the amusing and the tragic. And if you don't have an occupation tragedy always wins.

The point is that Nigel Barley is not James Herriot, and as his occupation is anthropology his style is a mixture of bad writing and patronising condescension sprinkled with a fair degree of dullness. I don't mean dull as in academic dull, more dull as in the more I read it the more fed up and uninterested I got.

To fast forward a bit when we returned took the next book from the great unread. Which turned out to be this.

H E Bates - A Little Bit of What You Fancy

This was the last book in the Larkin series. I've read the first, The Darling Buds Of May years ago and I remember thinking that the TV series was better. Mind you I didn't like the television version after the first season. Got all too predictable. I don't hold much hope, though to be fair I understand that this novel was never filmed.We shall see.

So to Swansea then. Which in the beginning got a bit damp.

Early afternoon in Swansea

We went into BHS in Swansea before it becomes a part of retail history. To be honest it was more in curiosity than anything else. Needless to say it was very sad. Everything was for sale.

And I mean EVERYTHING

What was interesting was that even with the reductions prices seemed cheaper elsewhere. I mean I wouldn't pay just under five pounds for a cereal bowl whoever made it. Perhaps that explains part of the reason for the decline of the business.

After that I spilt up with wife and daughter to go to a charity shop that just sold books. Or rather that was the intention, but for the second time today I was thwarted in buying books as it was closed for refurbishment. Other charity shops I saw didn't have Penguin/Pelican paperbacks that I didn't already own. Thwarted again.

A quick digression the worst place for me was a stall in Swansea market. Only because I don't like the price of books being stamped on the top. 

Don't like this one bit

After the ladies finished buying clothes and I finished buying nothing we went further west to the Mumbles. It wasn't really summer coastal weather being cool and cloudy. Still it can still do the views. Here are a few pictures.

Still can do vivid colours on a cloudy day

The original fifty shades of grey

Despite how it looks it didn't rain

Warm enough to have some chips whilst viewing this

And so the trip ended. It had been pleasant.

Until the next time.